


I'm Feeling Down

by jane_x80



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kittens, M/M, Sick Tony, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8575372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: Tony comes home after days away from his apartment to find it in a terrible state. And he finds a kitten he can't keep because his building doesn't allow pets (other than fish). And he really isn't feeling at all well.ORKitty needs a home, Tony needs a keeper, and Senior needs to suffer.Luckily for us, Jethro's house offers one-stop shopping. (Thank you to elderwitty for the succinct summary!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cutsycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutsycat/gifts).



> This story is a belated birthday gift for cutsycat. I know I'm almost two months late, but it's the thought that counts, right? ;) Happy belated birthday!
> 
> The title of the story comes from a line in the song Help by the Beatles. Seriously, I am awful at titles, so my apologies.
> 
> The prompt:  
> Tony finds a cute cuddly kitten and isn't allowed to keep him in his apartment so he goes to Gibbs with sad he/she is so adorable eyes won't you keep he/she for me with an extra dose of Gibbs and Tony cuddling and kissing.
> 
>  
> 
> Even though the prompt is fluffy and cute, I may have taken a left turn into angstville writing the story (I don't know what's wrong with me, sorry!), but it's what the muse wanted to write. Hope you like it! Happy belated birthday!! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned that there is mention of dead animals, although nothing too graphic.

Anthony DiNozzo wearily walked into his apartment, finally setting foot in his sanctuary after four days of non-stop work and sleeping at his desk or in the car on their way to and from various places in pursuit of a weapons smuggler. He was really looking forward to sleeping in his own bed. He was completely exhausted, and there was just the slightest little tickle in his throat which had been there for a couple of days now. OK, maybe more than the slightest little tickle, but he wasn’t going to whine about it or make a big deal about it. But he’d been unable to do much to fix it except secretly chew on cough drops and take echinacea the past couple of days. Now he was planning to just fall into bed, overdose on NyQuil and kill whatever infection was trying to take over his body before he was laid out with some kind of respiratory complication. This was his usual MO when it came to tickles in his throat or any kind of a sign of the sniffles.

Thank you so much, y-pestis for the gift that keeps on giving, he thought tiredly.

But then, the stench hit him almost like a physical punch. The minute he opened his front door, his nasal passages were assaulted by an indescribable awfulness.

Gagging, Tony rushed to open his living room windows. What the hell? Had someone died? He was used to bad smells – waterlogged rotting corpses were, in his opinion, the champions of producing the most godawful stenches. However, he wasn’t used to something in his house smelling like it was three days dead.

He looked around his apartment in horror. His usually compulsively neat apartment was a wreck. It looked like someone had had some kind of wild party – his books and movies were strewn about, empty liquor bottles lay everywhere along with what looked to be every single one of the glasses from his cabinets, some of them lipstick rimmed, lay scattered about. His liquor cabinet was wide open and empty. The television was on, as was his stereo. He gasped when he saw that his goldfish bowl was on the floor, shattered, and Kate lay near it, unmoving on his rug.

Not Kate! his mind screamed.

He could see into his bedroom and everything was in disarray there. It was as if he had a teenager and they’d had a wild party while he was out of town for a weekend.

But it didn’t explain the fucking smell. The stench was emanating from the kitchen. He stifled down a sound of panic. It smelled like a dead body. Really it did. And seriously, he would know, wouldn’t he, what a dead body smelled like? He’s encountered more than enough in his lifetime. A feeling of dread pooled in his belly. Something had died in his apartment, and with his luck it was probably a person. Someone he knew. And this time, the FBI really was going to take him away and lock him in a cell forever.

Before he succumbed to panic, his training finally kicked in. He pulled his gun and cleared his own apartment systematically. When he was sure no one was there, he opened the windows in his bedroom as well, and stared at his bed. To say that it was unmade was an understatement. Even with the terrible smell, his sharp nose could detect other smells. Someone had had sex in his bed. He wondered if this was what the three bears felt like when Goldilocks invaded their house, ate their food and slept in their beds. But, he thought wildly, at least Goldilocks didn’t have wild monkey sex and leak unidentifiable bodily fluids all over the bear’s bed. Not like this!

And in his _bed_? The bed that he never brought anyone home to! The bed that had only been sullied by his father and the neighbor… His father! The thought slammed into him like a train. Of course. His father had to have been the architect of this… His father had blown back into his life, wrecked the delicate balance within his team, charmed the fucking pants off of them and made _him_ look like the flighty and wayward son, the one to blame for their rocky relationship. Again. And now this. His father had thrown some kind of orgy in his apartment and hadn’t even bothered to let him know he was in town, never mind thinking about cleaning up the mess that his apartment was.

Heart calmer now that he was reasonably sure that nobody had died in his apartment (he’d cleared every room and closet, and there hadn’t been any rotting corpses), and knowing that his father was probably to blame, his emotions swung to anger. Anger at a good-for-nothing trouble causing, posturing asshole who had fathered him but had never been a father to him. _He_ was to blame for this fucking mess.

Stomping his feet, Tony marched into the kitchen and finally allowed himself to take in the sight of the dead roosters on his beautiful granite island. Someone had decided to slaughter live poultry in his goddamned apartment. He saw that they had also put blood – congealed, black blood – in two of the crystal bowls that had been his mother’s.

Tony saw red then. He got his backpack, snapped his gloves on, and photographed his apartment as carefully as he would a crime scene. Then he swept the dead roosters into garbage bags, triple bagging everything. He grabbed his keys and phone and ran downstairs, deciding to dispose of the dead poultry in the dumpster behind his apartment building instead of taking it to the garbage chute. What if the damned bags got stuck in there and stank up the entire building? He couldn’t take that chance.

He burst out of the rear exit and stopped short when he realized that it had started raining. And hard. He was only dressed in his dress shirt and hadn’t even put on a jacket. Sighing he ran to the dumpster, opened it and threw the bags in. After the dumpster shut with a loud clang, he was about to run back into the building when he heard a sound.

Ignoring the rain, he stilled, one hand hovering over his holster.

The sound came again.

He sighed. It was a tiny noise. A cat? Or possibly a baby? He listened intently for the sound to come again. And there it was. It sounded like a little meow. Probably a kitten then. Sighing, he started towards the door, already soaked to his skin and not bothering to run. What was the use? He was wet through now. 

But then he turned around. If he was wet through then this kitten (he was pretty sure it was a kitten) must be even wetter still. Even he couldn’t turn his back on a little wet cat. It was one of those icy spring rains and nobody should be left out in it. He went back to the dumpster and followed the pathetic little mews until he found it, a scrawny little thing, fur completely plastered to its skin and tremors rocking the tiny little body.

“Hey,” he crouched down. “Hey little guy. Or gal. Hey, let’s get you in out of the rain. OK?” He carefully reached out a hand and the kitten gave him a token hiss, but allowed him to scoop it up. He cradled it awkwardly against his chest. OK. He had the kitten. Now what? He’d never had a pet in his life, other than Kate the goldfish. Don’t think about Kate right now, he told himself as his mind went to the shattered bowl and the golden blob by it, and then of the real Kate lying on a roof, hair fanned out beautifully, bullet hole right smack in the middle of her forehead.

Nope, he couldn’t go there right now, so he pushed the thoughts away and forced himself back to the present. Back to the whole kitten thing. What was he to do with it? Take it into the building? What if this kitten belonged to someone and they were frantically looking for it? He sighed, then realized that the poor little thing was still shivering. He tried to shield it from the rain with his body as he walked back into his building. Then he stood there, eyes closed, holding a sopping wet kitten in his hand. What the hell was up with today?

Deciding first to deal with the issue of his father, he pulled his cell phone out, again very pleased that he’d purchased the heavy duty waterproof case, and called his father. Got his voicemail. Surprise.

“Dad, I just came home today and found dead roosters on my fucking island. And blood. And my liquor cabinet empty. My apartment is a fucking mess and it stinks to the high heavens. I don’t know what the fuck you did there, and really, I’m sure I don’t want to know. But if you ever come near me or my apartment again, I’m going to get you arrested for breaking and entering, trespassing, vandalism, and whatever the hell I can think of at the time, you got that? Fuck you! Fuck you and the fucking horse you rode in on!”

He hung up, breathing hard. OK. That felt good. No doubt he would be leaving a groveling apology on his father’s voicemail when he’d calmed down but there’s no denying it. That. Felt. Good.

Next, he went and hammered on the building super’s door. When the man opened his door, Tony growled at him. “Did you let my father into my apartment a few days ago?”

The man nodded.

The kitten meowed pathetically.

“Hey, you’re not allowed pets other than fish or birds or little caged things like hamsters in this building! No cats!” the man pointed to the splotch of wet fur in his hand.

“If you or anyone else ever lets my father into my apartment again, I will fucking beat the crap out of you!” Tony’s tone was menacing, the tone that made hardened criminals cringe.

The super wasn’t immune to it. He gulped a breath and nodded, looking afraid, which made Tony feel a tiny bit better.

“I will need to call in a professional cleaning crew to clean up the fucking mess that my father left behind. And you will pay for it, along with reimbursing me for any damage or loss or I will sic the worse lawyers on you. You got that?” Tony yelled.

The man nodded again. “B-but seriously…no cats allowed in the building though, Agent DiNozzo,” he stuttered.

“This isn’t _my_ goddamned cat! It’s raining out there, and apparently, it’s actually raining cats and dogs! I’m not going to leave this motherfucking scared little kitten out in the goddamned rain where it could be hurt or die of cold. I fucking _hate_ cats and this is _not_ my cat and I’m not keeping the cat!!!” Tony’s self control burst. “The cat will be gone by tomorrow. And if you don’t pay the cleaning bill, which I assure you, is going to be massive, there will be fucking _hell_ to pay!”

Tony stomped away, furious beyond belief. The kitten yowled in pain and he realized that he’d gripped it too tight.

“Sorry little guy,” he told it grumpily, loosening his grip.

He walked back into his apartment, grabbed the final clean towel from his linen closet (he didn’t want to know where any of the other towels were at this point. God knew what his father had done to them) and wrapped the kitten in it. He looked around at the detritus, grabbed his keys again, slung his backpack over a shoulder, and left, bringing the towel-wrapped kitten with him.

Tony didn’t even know exactly how he got there, but things kind of just happened, and somehow he found himself knocking on a door, and then someone was yelling at him, and then the cat meowed and then he sneezed. And then it was pretty much all a blur and then darkness. A cold, shivery darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also a tiny mention - today is the one year anniversary of the first story I posted on AO3, the first story I ever posted, ever. This is the 47th story I'm posting, which means that I've managed to post almost one story a week. Which probably means I need to slow down and pay more attention to RL ;)
> 
> Thanks to everyone for helping make this one of the most productive and fun years. I've very much enjoyed it all. So thank you. :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that this story takes place sometime in the spring of Season 7, a few months after s7e12 Flesh and Blood happened.

Gibbs was actually asleep on his creaky old sofa, the sound of the rain on his house a soothing balm. He loved it when it rained and he was indoors and the fireplace was going. It was perfect. He was exhausted. He’d fallen asleep with no trouble.

But then he startled awake when someone started pounding on his front door.

“It’s open!” he yelled hoarsely, reaching for his gun and walking to the door, careful not to turn any lights on. He might be a suspicious bastard, but better a suspicious one than a dead one. He peeked out through the window on his way to the door and thought he saw Tony standing out there. Why didn’t Tony just barge in like he normally did? And there was no way they had a case – they’d just finished a grueling one and had the next few days off to make up for the non-stop days they’d just put in.

He flung the door open. “What is it, DiNozzo?” he growled. “DiNozzo?” his tone gentled when he saw the confused look on Tony’s face, but changed to anger when he saw that the man was standing there, sopping wet and shivering in his shirt sleeves. “Where the hell is your jacket, Tony?” he yelled roughly. It was cold and wet, and there was Tony standing out there, rain dripping down his face, plastering his short brown hair to his head, his thin dress shirt sticking obscenely to his broad chest, outlining every muscle.

His Senior Field Agent’s teeth were chattering and he was hunched around a small bundle wrapped in what looked to be a towel. The man pushed a large plastic bag at him.

“What is this?” Gibbs asked, taking the bag, turning the foyer light on and seeing that not only was Tony shivering but his lips were blue. Not the blue lips. Not again.

And then Gibbs thought he heard, was that meowing? And DiNozzo thrust the towel in his face.

“What the fuck, DiNozzo?” he found himself asking as he took the wet bundle and saw a bedraggled kitten within, the kitten in a much drier state than DiNozzo himself at this point. “Tony?” DiNozzo was turning and starting to walk away. Gibbs grabbed his arm and the younger man stared at him in confusion. “Where’re you going?”

“G-gotta g-go clean up-p the m-mess,” Tony told him through chattering teeth. “E-everything is a god-d-damned f-f-fucking mess. I c-can’t…”

“Come in and get dry first,” Gibbs ordered him, pulling on his arm.

“But my apartment…?”

“Come in, DiNozzo!”

For the first time since they’d known each other, Gibbs thought that Tony was going to disobey a direct order that made perfect sense. He’d known Tony to go off and go against him, but all those other times, few as they might have been, had always been good decisions, ones made in order to protect the team, or Gibbs himself when Gibbs went off the deep end. But this? This was madness.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs snapped authoritatively, and Tony turned obediently.

“Yeah, boss?” his answer sounded completely like himself Gibbs was almost fooled again.

“Get in here,” he ordered curtly, opening the door wider and jerking his head.

Tony sighed and rubbed his eyes, ineffectively trying to keep the water out of them.

“Now, DiNozzo,” Gibbs used his drill sergeant tone. Tony was powerless to disobey then. He shuffled in, dripping all over Gibbs’ foyer. Gibbs shut the door, pushed the bundled up kitten back into Tony’s arms and dropped the plastic bag Tony had handed him on the floor. “Stay here.”

Gibbs ran to the linen cupboard upstairs and brought down a bunch of towels and some clean clothes. He ran back down and threw two towels and the sweatpants, t-shirt and hoodie into the dryer, turning it on for ten minutes before he went back to the foyer and wrapped a towel around his still shivering second.

“Take your clothes off and get dry, DiNozzo,” he took Tony’s backpack off him and left it by the door and steered Tony towards the downstairs bathroom.

“K-kit-t-en…” Tony said helplessly.

Gibbs took the sad little bundle, “I’ll take care of it. Go take care of yourself.”

“K-k-kay b-b-boss,” Tony’s teeth seemed to be chattering even worse. And then he sneezed, a loud, wet sound. And sneezed again, two more times, just as wetly.

“You’re catching your death, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said gruffly. “Get those wet clothes off and get dry right now.”

Tony nodded and closed the bathroom door.

Gibbs sighed and looked down at the kitten, mewing pathetically. He took it out of the now-wet towel and began rubbing it briskly with a dry one. The kitten shivered but seemed not to protest. Then he wrapped it in another dry towel and looked through the bag Tony had handed him. He found a litter box, small bag of kitty litter, small bag of kitten kibble, powdered kitten formula, two little dishes, a couple of mats, and even a cat toy. Did Tony actually think he was keeping the fucking cat? He was not keeping Tony’s goddamned cat, he groused. Who in their right mind would think that he wanted a pet? Ridiculous.

Grumbling to himself, Gibbs set things up in the kitchen, put one of the mats down, filled the bowls with kitten dry food and water, and set the kitten down by its food and water dish. The kitten nosed at the food for a moment before it started crunching away. Gibbs set up the litter box by the back door, wondering if maybe he should set it in the downstairs bathroom after DiNozzo was done in there. He made sure the kitten knew where the litter box was and prayed that it was housebroken. He was not going to be pleased if there were too many messes. Said kitten curled back up in the towel Gibbs had wrapped it in. Nodding at it, Gibbs put a pot of coffee on, pulled the warmed towels and clothes out of the dryer and went to check on Tony.

He knocked on the bathroom door and opened it when there was no answer. Tony was still shivering, nude, standing in the middle of the bathroom, wet clothes dumped in the sink, used towels dropped haphazardly on the floor. Water was still dripping into his eyes from his hair. But he stood there unmoving, not even acknowledging Gibbs.

“DiNozzo?” Gibbs said gently. “Tony?”

Tony’s head snapped up. “Mmm?” he hummed. And then he sneezed again, the sneeze seeming to surprise him.

“Tony?”

Big green eyes met his, and that was what scared Gibbs. They were huge, glassy and dazed-looking. He surged into the bathroom, wrapped Tony in the dryer-warmed towels and briskly toweled him down, the way he’d dried the kitten. Heat was coming off of Tony in waves, even though Tony’s body was ice cold from being outside in the spring freezing rain. The man didn’t resist or object when Gibbs helped him dress in his too-short sweatpants, USMC t-shirt and hoodie. Gibbs towed the man to his kitchen table, pushed him into a chair, dragged his own blanket off the couch and draped it around the man, and poured him a cup of coffee.

“Drink it,” he told the still-shivering man.

Tony obeyed in silence, not once complaining about the strength of the coffee or the lack of sugar or cream in it which worried Gibbs. He found his cell phone and immediately called Ducky.

“Jethro, good evening. Have you caught a case?” Ducky’s pleasant brogue answered after only one ring.

“Ducky. DiNozzo is here and I think he needs you.”

Tony punctuated that with two loud sneezes and a wet sniffle.

“I can hear him, Jethro,” Ducky said, concerned. “Are you at his apartment or your house?”

“My house. He just turned up. With a kitten.”

“With a kitten, you say?”

The little thing mewed softly, and Gibbs watched as Tony tried to get up to go to it.

“Sit your ass back down,” he told Tony, going to the little animal and bringing it over to Tony. The younger man took the kitten, cradled it carefully against his chest, and began rocking back and forth.

“Yeah, Duck. A kitten. They were both soaking wet. DiNozzo’s got a fever, and he wasn’t making any sense. He’s not talking at all right now. And I think I can hear him breathing all the way from here.”

“Well, that sounds quite worrying,” Gibbs could hear Ducky moving around, preparing himself to come over. “I shall be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, Duck.” Gibbs hung up. He went back to the kitchen table and sat in a chair, pulling it close to Tony. “What happened, DiNozzo?”

Tony looked stupidly at him, one hand absently petting the tiny cat.

“DiNozzo. What happened?”

Tony’s eyes welled with unexpected tears, green eyes swimming in them. “Big fucking mess. He left dead chickens in my apartment and a big, huge, fucking mess,” he muttered, lips blue, teeth still chattering despite his dryness and having sipped at the hot coffee.

“Dead chickens?”

Tony nodded. “R-roosters,” he clarified. “Fucking asshole. Stupid fucking asshole.”

“Somebody trashed your apartment?” Gibbs guessed.

“T-took pictures. For evidence,” Tony nodded towards his backpack, abandoned and forgotten near the front door. “Had to get rid of the goddamned dead chickens. The smell…” Tony gagged.

“Who did it, DiNozzo?”

“S-stupid fucking _asshole_!” Tony bit out before he began coughing. Coughing that same, horrible wet phlegmy cough that still haunted Gibbs’ nightmares. That cough that made him think of blue lights, blood on Tony’s mouth and clothes, and the plague. And Kate. Alive and unhurt.

Gibbs rubbed Tony’s back soothingly, until his coughing jag was over. “Who, Tony?” he asked gently.

“Father,” Tony finally answered, sounding like a little boy.

“Your father trashed your apartment while we were on that case?”

Tony’s lower lips wobbled and his eyes began tearing up again. “He always ruins everything and everyone always loves him. They never see the mess he always leaves and I always have to clean up after him,” he said sadly.

Sighing, Gibbs pulled him into a short hug. Tony was stiff in his arms. “How’s the cat fit into all this?” Gibbs asked.

“What cat?” Tony asked blankly.

“DiNozzo?”

“Yeah, boss.”

“There’s a cat in your arms,” Gibbs told him, speaking to him as if he were a child.

Tony looked down at the little feline cuddled to his chest. “Why’s there a cat?” he sounded confused and perhaps even horrified. “Father will kill me. I’m not allowed pets. Remember what happened to the sea monkeys?” he shuddered.

“Tony!”

The younger man turned to him. Gibbs put the back of his hand to Tony’s forehead, and growled. He was burning up. “C’mon. Let’s get you to bed, DiNozzo.”

Tony smiled, a slow, seductive smile. “Are you Father’s friend?” he asked, sounding both too young and too old at the same time. “Did he send you to play with me?”

Gibbs’ mind shied away away, shrieking and screaming. What the fuck had his father done to him as a child?

“No, DiNozzo. I’m your boss!” he snapped angrily. “And we are not ‘playing’!”

Tony frowned in confusion. “Just tell me what you want me to do,” he begged, sounding afraid. “I’m supposed to do whatever you want me to do. Don’t tell Father. I’m trying to be good. I’m a good boy.”

“Yeah, Tony,” Gibbs said, pulling him up. “You’re being good. Let’s get you to bed. OK?”

Gibbs had Tony and the kitten upstairs and tucked into the bed in the guest bedroom as quickly as he could. The younger man was lying on his side, still shivering, and the kitten had curled up in his arms and gone to sleep. Gibbs sat on the bed and resisted the urge to lie down and wrap himself around the shivering body, praying that Ducky would get there soon, wondering if perhaps he should have called 9-1-1 but knowing that Tony wouldn’t have appreciated that when he was himself again.

Ducky must have driven Gibbs-style to get there so quickly. But when he got there, Gibbs gladly handed over control of the situation to the elderly physician, instead efficiently becoming his assistant during that long night of trying to bring Tony’s core temperature up while lowering his fever and dealing with the respiratory infection he seemed to have somehow picked up.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony was floating in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Nothing could touch him here. It could possibly be the best place that he’d ever been.

And then he felt it. Fingers gently carding through his hair. Soft, damp towels on his forehead and face and neck, gentle dabbing.

He frowned and stirred.

“Shhh,” a familiar gruff voice soothed him. “Relax. I’ve got you. You’re OK.”

He felt the fingers carding through his hair again. Odd. He would have never associated the voice with the petting. But it was nice. He let himself float away again, lulled by the warmth.

\-----------------------------------------------

He opened his eyes. He’s propped up on many pillows, almost to a sitting position, heating pads surrounding him. One even under him. He wiggled his ass, enjoying the warmth. He tried to sit up but fell back weakly. He looked around, slowly recognizing Gibbs’ guest room. There was an IV pole by the bed, a tube leading from a bag suspended there into the back of his hand.

He frowned, confused. He started to push the heating pads off, gearing himself to sit up again when he began to cough. Pain stabbed through his chest and every inhale was a wheezy struggle.

Firm hands helped him sit up and thumped his back until he coughed up a mouthful of mucus, and several Kleenexes magically showed up in front of his face for him to spit into, and his face was wiped clean before he was gently laid back against the pillows. A straw poked at his mouth and he obediently drank the heavenly cold water.

“DiNozzo?” Gibbs’ voice cut through his wheezing breaths.

Tony cracked open his eyes and saw his boss sitting on the bed, one hand still on Tony’s shoulder. “Hey boss,” he wheezed. “Why am I in your guest room?”

“You don’t remember?”

It was weird. Gibbs sounded so gentle Tony wondered if this was a dream. He shook his head, stopping when the movement made him dizzy. Gibbs handed him his rescue inhaler and he gratefully sucked in a couple of puffs as he slowly recovered from his coughing jag and tried to think about what he last remembered. And then it hit him. His apartment! Wrecked! And it was daylight so the awfulness had continued overnight.

“Oh shit,” he struggled to sit up.

“Don’t even think about it,” Gibbs put his hand on Tony’s chest, keeping him in the bed.

Tony laid back, wheezing and sweating. “But, my apartment…”

“Shhhh,” Gibbs’ fingers were back in his hair, calming him down. “It’s all been taken care of.”

“ _What!?_ ” Tony began wheezing hard, laboring to breathe. “What’s been taken care of?” his words were barely understandable due to his inability to breathe properly.

Gibbs picked up a mask. “Ducky says you have to have nebulizer treatments,” he said apologetically. “Let’s do this and I’ll tell you what’s been going on with your apartment.”

Tony was completely confused and unsettled.

“It’s OK,” Gibbs said, gently hooking the mask over Tony’s nose and mouth, measuring out the meds and starting the nebulizer. He smiled at Tony as the breathing treatment began, the little machine quietly pumping. “Remember how Kate just couldn’t figure this thing out?”

Tony smiled and nodded, concentrating on breathing.

Then there was a little meow, and Gibbs leaned down and picked up a little ball of fur. It was mostly white with black and gray markings on one of its ears, around one eye, and on both of its front paws. It was quite possibly the fluffiest long haired kitten Tony had ever seen.

Tony gave Gibbs a look. “When’d you get a cat?” he asked, his words muffled by the mask.

Gibbs glared at him. “No talking,” he tapped Tony’s head gently. “Keep breathing in the treatment. And I didn’t get a cat. You brought me a cat.”

“ _What??_ ”

“Shit, DiNozzo,” Gibbs sighed, putting the kitten on the bed, and the little cat immediately crawled up Tony’s body and settled in his lap, curling up as if it belonged there. “You really were out of it, weren’t you?”

Tony rolled his eyes, and as a last resort, decided he needed to play his last communication card. He needed to know what was going on. Mentally throwing his hands up at giving up this secret, he began signing. _Start from the beginning_ , he signed, his movements slow but sure.

Gibbs’ eyes widened in surprise before it narrowed suspiciously. “How long have you known ASL?” he asked.

Tony shrugged the question away. _Please. What happened last night? My apartment?_ he signed.

“Last night?” Gibbs asked.

_After work. Last night_ , Tony signed impatiently.

Gibbs gave him a serious look. “Tony, you’ve been here three days.”

Tony gawked at him. _It’s Monday?_

“Yeah,” Gibbs nodded soberly. “You’ve been real sick, Tony.”

Tony began hyperventilating, until Gibbs stroked his hair, which made him calm down. Ducky came in the room and efficiently took Tony’s temperature and blood pressure, and checked his blood oxygen levels before he settled in a chair.

“Here’s what happened,” Gibbs began. “You showed up on Friday night. It was raining and you were completely soaked, and you brought me the cat. You were about to leave the damned thing with me and run off but I made you come in to get dry. You were already sick – feverish and sneezing. So Ducky came over and we’ve been taking care of you.”

_I brought you the cat?_ Tony signed, unaware that he was petting the animal gently, causing it to purr. _This cat?_

Gibbs nodded wryly. “Yes, DiNozzo. That’s the only cat in this house. You brought me that cat.”

“Anthony, you know American Sign Language?” Ducky asked.

Tony shrugged, grinning innocently under the mask.

_And my apartment? You said things were… What was taken care of?_ Tony signed.

“If I tell you what happened, you have to stay calm. Can you do that?” Gibbs asked.

Tony nodded, green eyes wide and worried.

“When you arrived, you said your apartment had been trashed by your father. There were dead roosters. And you’d taken pictures.”

Tony nodded, remembering the state of his apartment. His eyes watered again. _Did you look at the pictures?_ he signed.

“Yes, I looked at your photos. You documented everything perfectly.”

Tony nodded, lips turned down in a frown.

“After Ducky and I made sure you lived through the night, the next afternoon I went back to your apartment. McGee and I documented all the damage, and we have evidence bags filled if you want to take action against your father.”

Tony shook his head, starting to breathe hard.

“Anthony, you must calm down,” Ducky said gently, “Or I shall have to ask Jethro to leave and give you something to make you rest.”

Tony shook his head, working hard to slow his breathing down. When he was under control, Ducky patted his knee gently, and nodded to Gibbs to continue.

“I spoke to your building super. They’ve picked up the cost of the heavy duty professional cleaners that McGee called, and they will also compensate you for any damages or property losses. Your super let your father in, despite the fact that you expressly wrote him a letter asking him not to do so after he last visited,” Gibbs said quietly. “They have also changed all your locks. And they are paying for new floors.”

_New floors?_ Tony gawked, fingers trembling as he signed. _Why do I need new floors?_

“You left the windows open in the rain. Your hardwood floors had swelled up by the time McGee and I got there on Saturday and now you need new floors.”

“Fuck!” Tony swore.

“Now, Anthony,” Ducky said warningly.

_Piano?_ Tony signed hurriedly.

“The water didn’t affect your piano, I don’t think,” Gibbs assured him.

Tony’s eyes welled again. _It was my mother’s_ , he signed.

“Yeah, OK, Tony. We’ll get it checked out,” Gibbs put a hand on Tony’s shoulder while the younger man nodded. “McGee is also going through to see if any of your appliances need to be replaced.”

Tony groaned and began muttering quietly.

“Anthony…” Ducky gave him a look.

Tony raised his hands in surrender and gestured to Gibbs to continue.

“So your apartment is being cleaned and completely aerated, the cleaners started working on it yesterday and they should be done no later than tomorrow. The floor people are coming for an estimate sometime today. McGee and Abby are taking care of that for you. You should have new floors in a couple of weeks,” Gibbs said quietly.

Tony sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly with one hand, as he petted the kitten with the other. He was silent for a while. _What about the kitten?_ he signed.

Gibbs grinned. “The damned cat? I’m honestly not sure. Best I can guess, you rescued it that night. Your super said that you had it in your arms and you yelled at him.”

_I yelled at the cat?_ Tony looked confused.

“No, DiNozzo. As far as I know you didn’t yell at the cat. You yelled at your super.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. That didn’t sound anything like his normal behavior.

“You don’t remember any of this?” Gibbs was concerned.

Tony shook his head.

“Well, Jethro, you can’t be surprised. By the time I arrived on Friday night, his temperature was pushing 105 degrees. We were lucky you didn’t start seizing, Anthony,” Ducky interjected.

Tony’s eyes widened and he groaned. “Sorry, Ducky,” he wheezed.

“Do refrain from speaking,” Ducky told him sternly. “And I’ve told you many times that you must not let yourself get in such a bad way. Your lungs, Anthony. They can’t take that kind of torture. Jethro said you weren’t even wearing a jacket when you came over. And you’d been to the store, buying supplies for the cat! How long you exposed yourself to the freezing rain that night, I do not know. But you must have already been ill before exposure escalated everything. Young Dr Pitt was just here last night, checking on you after hours. And we both agree, you’re to have complete bedrest for at least a week.”

“No!” Tony shook his head.

“And if you argue with me young man, I’ll prescribe bedrest for two weeks,” Ducky told him grimly. “You’ve just been very, very ill, Anthony. And I will not have you undo my hard work by taking a cavalier attitude towards your health.”

Tony’s face fell, and he nodded silently. The kitten in his lap stood and stretched before it meowed and tried to scramble up Tony’s chest. He picked it up and cradled it against his chest.

_Did you find the kitten’s owner?_ Tony signed. _Maybe somebody’s looking for it?_

Gibbs shook his head. “Cat’s probably a stray. Abby made posters and taped them in your building and near it, but no dice so far. She and McGee took it to the vet yesterday and had her checked out. She’s healthy but needs fattening up.”

_I can’t keep the cat_ , Tony signed, turning to look at the tiny little ball of fur and scratching behind its ear. _They’re not allowed in my building_.

Gibbs nodded. “I know.”

_Animal shelter?_ Tony signed, his big green eyes mournful.

“No, we won’t leave her in a shelter,” Gibbs said gently.

_Maybe Abby’s nuns will help me find it a good home_ , Tony was hesitant.

“We don’t need to find it a new home,” Gibbs told him firmly.

“Oh Anthony, don’t you worry. Jethro has already bought your cat a massive cat condo, and Abigail has also bought it many toys and treats. Your cat is not going to an animal shelter or to be re-homed. She will be staying with Jethro,” Ducky said, smiling.

Tony smiled weakly and relaxed against his pillows. The kitten began rubbing itself on his chin, no doubt enjoying the scratchy stubble. Tony closed his eyes, eyelids feeling weighed down, but before he could fall asleep, he sat up so suddenly the kitten mrowred an objection.

“My father?” Tony asked. _Did he call?_ he switched back to ASL at both Gibbs’ and Ducky’s glares.

Gibbs sighed, making a moue of distaste.

Tony nodded, understanding it. Again, his eyes prickled with hot tears. Fucking man couldn’t even call to apologize to his son for completely messing up his apartment. He closed his eyes and leaned back against his pillows, thankful that Gibbs and Ducky were giving him a moment to compose himself. Finally he opened his eyes, now dry again, thank goodness.

“Have you thought about what you want to do about Senior?” Ducky asked, ignoring Gibbs murderous look. He knew that Gibbs would prefer they not speak about Senior until Tony was better, but he wanted to tackle it head on before the young man’s defenses could be shored up again.

Tony shrugged, shaking his head.

“You should consider doing something,” Ducky said as kindly as he could. “Leaving the apartment in the state that he did was a health hazard, at the very least.”

Tony shrugged again. _I can’t have him arrested. He’s my father_ , he signed.

“No arrests,” Gibbs muttered, translating for Ducky.

“Perhaps a restraining order?” Ducky suggested.

Tony shrugged before he signed dejectedly.

“Says he’ll think about it,” Gibbs told Ducky.

“Good. I think it will be good for your father for there to be consequences to this action,” Ducky’s tone was gentle. “He cannot be allowed to get off scot free from leaving dead animals in your apartment.”

_What the hell was the deal with the dead chickens?_ Tony signed.

Gibbs made a face. “Abby said…”

“Abby? Abby saw my apartment, too?” Tony spluttered.

“Hush,” Ducky admonished him. “Stop talking and just breathe in the treatment as calmly as you can, Anthony.”

Tony nodded and covered his eyes with his hand.

“I asked Abby if it was some kind of ritual,” Gibbs said softly. “She took a look at your photos and she thinks it was some kind of voodoo ritual for good luck. But, she thinks it was done by a quack and not a real practitioner.”

“Voodoo??” Tony exclaimed, rolling his eyes. Then he sighed, and his head ached even worse.

“She’s also called in a voodoo practitioner friend of hers and they will perform a ritual to cleanse your apartment within the week, just in case,” Ducky added.

Tony just sighed and nodded. “Whatever,” he muttered softly.

Ducky took in his paleness, and the bags under his eyes, making him look almost bruised. “Why don’t you try to take a nap, Anthony,” he said gently. “Things will seem better when you’re not feeling quite so poorly.”

Tony nodded again, closing his eyes and turning himself awkwardly onto his side, hampered by the nebulizer mask on his face. He settled in as best he could, the kitten cradled in the crook of his arm, and deliberately closed his eyes. Ducky patted his shoulder softly and excused himself. Tony expected Gibbs to do the same, but instead, the marine settled himself comfortably on the bed, leaning against Tony’s pillows, one arm across the top of the pile, almost but not quite putting his arm around Tony’s body. Surprised, Tony looked up.

“Gotta wait for your nebulizer treatment to finish,” Gibbs muttered, meeting Tony’s eyes, and petting the kitten in Tony’s arm. “Go on and get some sleep, DiNozzo. You look like you need it.”

Tony nodded, too tired to argue or question what Gibbs was doing sitting so close to him, practically hugging him and petting the damned kitten when there was a perfectly good chair right by the bed. But he would deny that he snuggled even closer to Gibbs’ comforting bulk. Because there’s no way Tony would snuggle into Gibbs, unh-unh. That would be playing with fire. But then when Gibbs’ fingers started carding through his hair again, he sighed, burrowed right into Gibbs’ side, closed his eyes and slept.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

After the breathing treatment ended, Gibbs took the mask off and turned the machine off. Then he carefully eased even closer to the sleeping DiNozzo and slipped his arm around the man’s shoulder. Tony wheezed loudly as he settled his head comfortably on Gibbs’ chest, and brought his armful of sleeping kitten into Gibbs’ lap.

The older man smiled down at his sleeping companions. Despite hating the chest-sucking sound that was Tony trying to breathe, he was glad that the younger man had ended up at his house, even if he’d come bearing a cat. A cat, of all things. As if Gibbs was even a cat sort of guy. Give him a nice big dog – a labrador of some kind, or a german shepherd, or even one of those huge Irish wolfhounds, might as well be a small horse type of dog – and he would be all over it. But of course, DiNozzo wouldn’t have left a defenseless kitten out in the rain, no matter how delirious he was. But that he’d come to Gibbs to hand off the cat before he tried to deal with his other problems pleased him beyond belief.

He sighed and dropped a kiss in Tony’s honey brown hair. Every time he touched it, he was taken aback by how soft it was. Straight as it was, he always expected it to be coarser, but it wasn’t. Tony’s hair was soft as silk. It was one of the reasons why he enjoyed slapping the back of the man’s head, he got to feel that soft hair on his fingers on a regular basis. He nuzzled his face into it. Even after three days of fever and sweat, Tony’s hair still smelled good. Hell, Tony always smelled good.

He sighed again and leaned into the man, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin. His feelings for Tony were always complicated. Well. His feelings weren’t complicated, but the repercussions to letting anyone know about them were. He’d been attracted to Tony from the very beginning, from when Tony tackled him in that alley in Baltimore. And his feelings for the man had only grown throughout the years.

He knew that Tony looked up to him, and was fond of him. And he knew that Tony trusted him. Or rather, Tony was back to trusting him now, after he’d recovered from Gibbs forgetting them all, the whole La Grenouille op, the Jenny debacle, followed by his stint as agent afloat, and all the craziness that was their lives. They seemed now to be back to a place where Tony could come and sit on his basement step and talk seriously with him, or they would eat cowboy steaks together and watch a game on Gibbs’ old TV. It was nice to have that back. So Gibbs was happy that when Tony had been in a bad place, the younger man had come to him for help. That was a good thing.

He tried not to think about the reasons why he’d left Ziva out of the loop of what had happened to Tony and his apartment over the weekend. Tried not to go there. He’d thought that Tony had been in love with Ziva, had thrown himself into the effort of avenging and ultimately rescuing her in Somalia. But he wasn’t so sure anymore – there seemed to be some kind of divide between his two agents now, which made him wonder, had Tony actually been in love? Or had it been Ziva? But something had changed and in order to protect Tony from further hurt, Gibbs had chosen to keep Ziva out of it all. Let McGee or Abby keep her updated, but he wasn’t going to pull her into the investigation or into helping fix Tony’s problems.

And what Tony had said to him, about playing with his father’s friends? No way in hell was Gibbs going to tell anyone, especially not Ziva about that. That was something he would have to eventually talk to Tony about, but fuck, he had no clue how to even go there. Especially since Tony had no recollection of the entire conversation. It wasn’t as if he could just bring it up while they ate dinner. Here, DiNozzo, have some cowboy steak, and can we now talk about the kinds of abuse you were subjected to as a child? Yeah. That wasn’t going to go over well at all. He might have to sit on that for a while until there was some kind of natural opening to ease into this conversation. Otherwise DiNozzo would only clam up and withdraw, and stop coming around again. And that would be disastrous, if he felt like Gibbs knew something that he thought made him look weak, then he would try very hard to prove Gibbs wrong, or he might even decide it was time to leave NCIS.

Gibbs sighed. It was a tricky thing to deal with Tony sometimes. He’d suspected many things, of course, about Senior and Tony’s childhood, but to have Tony’s delirious words confirming the worse of his suspicions was almost too much for him. No wonder Tony had been so thrown off balance when Senior turned up a few months ago. Gibbs growled under his breath. Senior wasn’t going to get the same kind of welcome the next time the man turned up at NCIS, he promised himself.

But for the time being, he relaxed, keeping Tony safe in his arms, and the damned kitten too. The cat was cute, he couldn’t deny that. Damned cat’s eyes were green and wily, just like Tony’s. He grinned at that before he mentally shook himself for that maudlin thought. He’d had too little sleep in the past few days too. He sighed and yawned, and decided it wouldn’t hurt to just close his eyes and take a little nap. He’d be awake before anyone came looking or Tony woke up.


	4. Chapter 4

Abby was barely able to stop herself from squealing when she and McGee walked in to Gibbs’ guest room. In a flash, she had pulled her phone out and was quietly taking pictures of the adorable tableau they were presented with.

Gibbs and Tony had fallen asleep on the bed together. Tony’s lower body was still under the covers and the heating pads, but his face was pushed into Gibbs’ neck, his entire torso cuddled up to Gibbs’ chest, and there was fluffy white bundle snuggled up in the crook of his arm and directly in Gibbs’ lap. Gibbs was leaning against Tony’s pillows, feet straight out on top of the covers but he had one arm securely around Tony, and his face was buried in Tony’s hair.

McGee’s efforts to try to drag Abby out of the room woke Gibbs up. He lifted his head and glared at the two. McGee was blushing and embarrassed and started stammering an apology.

“Shhh,” Gibbs hushed him, looking down and seeing that Tony hadn’t even stirred. “Don’t wake him,” the command was unmistakable, albeit in an undertone.

Abby elbowed McGee and he quieted down, swallowing the rest of his apologies.

“Whaddaya got?” Gibbs asked softly.

“My friend Jordan looked at the photos and will perform the cleansing ritual on Tony’s apartment this week sometime. She wanted to give the cleaners time to do the physical cleansing before she does her stuff. She doesn’t think anything real happened there but she thought it wouldn’t hurt to do the ritual anyways,” Abby whispered. “She’s pretty angry about this. She wants to hit back with something.”

“Let her,” Gibbs said. Not that he believed in voodoo, but he didn’t not believe either. And if Jordan could hurt Senior in a way that Gibbs couldn’t, then he would take it.

“What?” Abby was surprised.

“Tell her to do her worst,” Gibbs said grimly. “Tell her I’d be happy to pay her for it.”

“But…?” Abby gave McGee a scared look. “It’s Tony’s dad!” she whisper-yelled.

“I’m aware,” Gibbs said mildly. “Ask McGee what the apartment smelled like even after Tony had left the windows open all night. He deserves whatever’s coming to him.”

Abby swallowed and nodded. “I’ll let Jordan know,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Don’t tell DiNozzo about this,” he ordered Abby and McGee, and stared at them until they both nodded. He glared at Abby for a long time, until he was sure she would obey him. “Good,” Gibbs nodded and turned to McGee.

“Boss, I walked the floor guys through this afternoon and they’ve given us a couple of estimates,” McGee put a few printouts on the nightstand. “Tony can decide which of these he’d prefer or I can ask a different company to give their estimate.”

“We can let him decide,” Gibbs said. “Appliances?”

“His entertainment center is shot,” McGee said regretfully. “Water shorted out the whole thing as the outlet was real low on the wall. He’ll need three new lamps, too. Kitchen appliances are all fine. I threw out all his icky vegetables – wouldn’t even have guessed that Tony would keep fresh produce. I guess he cooks for himself. He even had a bunch of frozen homecooked meals in his freezer,” McGee paused to frown thoughtfully about this, before he continued. “His clock radio alarm is shot and so are all the lamps in the bedroom. He’ll need a new personal laptop. He had it charging on the floor by his bed. I’ll make sure I rescue what I can off of his hard drive. I’ve included an itemized list of every appliance or electronic thing that he’ll need replaced,” he nodded to the papers on the nightstand. “The super or whoever can reimburse him for the cost of everything.”

“Thank you,” Gibbs’ words surprised both Abby and McGee.

“Ducky said he doesn’t remember much past going home and finding the wreckage,” Abby said.

Gibbs shrugged. “He thought it was Saturday when he woke up earlier.”

“He was that sick?” Abby’s eyes were huge.

“Yeah.”

Tony wheezed and snuffled, tucking his face more securely into Gibbs’ neck with a ragged sigh, and one arm going around Gibbs’ waist. Everyone froze until he settled back down into a deep sleep, his breaths coming in soft wheezes. Abby tried not to notice that Gibbs’ arm, the one that was still around Tony (shriek!) began rubbing up and down his back soothingly, and Tony sighed softly in his sleep.

“One more thing,” Gibbs said, completely ignoring the fact that Tony was now sprawled across his body. “Can you find a piano tuner? He was worried about it.”

McGee nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Ziva’s probably heading over here sometime later, Bossman,” Abby’s husky whisper was regretful. “We tried to hold her off as much as we could.”

“She’s worried now cause neither of us gave her details,” McGee said softly.

Gibbs nodded. “And we’re sure it was Senior?”

McGee nodded. “Super confirmed it when I showed him a photo array. Had no problem picking him out.”

“And I have his fingerprints all over everything, including the bed,” Abby said, her face icked out. “I really didn’t want to run DNA on the fluids on Tony’s bed, Bossman. But I’m running it, waiting for the results, so we’ll have all the facts.”

“Where is he now?” Gibbs wanted to know.

McGee rubbed his face and blew out a breath. “He’s in Hong Kong now. He was here, obviously, but got on a plan for Hong Kong on Thursday. I pinged his phone to confirm.”

“I want to know where he is at all times,” Gibbs said, his eyes cold.

“OK, Boss,” McGee agreed.

“Let me know when he’s back in country, and especially if he’s within a two hundred mile radius of DC.”

McGee nodded.

A muscle in Gibbs jaw worked, but there were no other outward signs of his displeasure.

“I can’t believe that that nice man would do this to Tony,” Abby sighed.

“He’s not nice,” Gibbs said curtly. “It’s not the first time he’s screwed Tony over. We should all remember that.”

“He hasn’t even called any of us back,” tears pooled in Abby’s eyes. “He’s supposed to be Tony’s father. He’s supposed to care about him.”

Gibbs grunted, his rage at the elder DiNozzo plain on his face.

“And we were all taken in by him,” McGee said quietly. “When he was here. Tony was such a mess and we just laughed at him about it. I thought he was overreacting.”

“Man disowned Tony when he was twelve,” Gibbs pointed out. “You should’ve remembered that story when he was telling us all about the crap Tony pulled on him because what kind of father disowns a twelve year old? Not a good one.”

Abby and McGee nodded, accepting the reprimand.

“Think Tony’ll bring charges on him?” McGee asked. “I would, if anyone had done what he did to my apartment.”

Gibbs shrugged.

“Tony’s not going to do that,” Abby said softly. “He’s too loyal.”

“It’s what children of abusive households do,” Gibbs said shortly. “He’ll protect and defend that fucker. It’s what he’s done all his life.”

Abby looked as if she was about to hyperventilate. McGee silently steered her out of the room, understanding Gibbs’ fierce look. The one that said that the next person to hurt Tony was going to get a boot in his or her ass. Or a knife in the gut.

A few minutes later, the kitten started kneading Gibbs’ chest and Tony’s arm. Her claws, while tiny, were still sharp. Gibbs tried to pick it up with his free hand but her claws were stuck in his shirt.

Tony sat up with a snort. His eyes widened when he realized that he’d been sleeping on his boss.

“Little help?” Gibbs said mildly, holding the kitten up, her claws pulling his shirt up along with her.

Tony grinned, petted the kitten, and carefully freed the kitten’s claws. “You gonna de-claw her?” he asked as Gibbs moved away and put a little space between them.

“Nope. She needs to obey Rule #9.”

Tony laughed at that, a wheezy, breathless chuckle, and he took the kitten into his arms. “That she does,” he agreed.

“You’re sounding a lot better,” Gibbs told him.

“Feeling better,” Tony grinned at him. “Good nap, I guess.”

Gibbs nodded and reached over to pet the kitten.

“I don’t have to be on bedrest for a week, do I?” Tony whined.

Gibbs gave him a look, which made his shoulders slump.

“Yeah, okay,” he finally acquiesced. “When can I go home?”

“Stuck here for a couple weeks, Tony,” Gibbs was matter of fact. “Your apartment has water damage. You’re on bedrest for at least a week. And you need to help me with the damned cat. You brought her to me.”

Tony nodded, subdued, as he continued to pet the kitten, enjoying its little purrs.

“What are you gonna call her?” Gibbs asked.

Tony looked at him, eyes wide. “She’s your cat, Gibbs.”

“Not my cat. _Your_ cat. I’m just providing a place for her to live. I’m going to expect you here taking of her as much as I do. Just cause she lives here doesn’t mean you can just dump her and leave her entirely to me.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “I guess that’s fair.”

“So. Name?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had a pet before. I mean. Other than Kate,” Tony’s face fell, remembering Kate’s fate. Fish Kate. The late fish Kate. “Oh god. Senior killed Kate.”

“Yeah,” Gibbs saw that look on Tony’s face and couldn’t help but pull the younger man back into his arms. “Yeah, he did.”

“That motherfucker,” Tony tried to growl, but only managed to wheeze and cough.

“Breathe, Tony,” Gibbs rubbed his back until Tony was calm again.

“Has anything else happened with the whole apartment situation?” Tony asked hesitantly.

Gibbs updated him and told him that McGee had dropped off his appliance list and the different flooring estimates. Tony listened, silently petting the kitten. After a long moment of silence, Gibbs knew he needed to distract Tony from thinking about his father.

“What are you going to name your cat?” he asked, reminding Tony off the original topic of conversation.

“What’s your name?” Tony picked the kitten up and put it up by his face, smiling when the little thing rubbed her head and muzzle on Tony’s jaw. “Huh? Can’t just keep calling you ‘damned cat’.”

Gibbs chuckled.

“Have you been a good kitty?” Tony asked the kitten, and she mewed adorably in reply. “Is that a yes? Or have you been scratching up Gibbs’ house and driving him up the wall?”

Gibbs snorted. “Talking to the damned cat, huh? Always with the yabba yabba.”

“You love it, boss,” Tony threw him a flirtatious grin.

Wait. Was that a flirtatious grin? Gibbs stared at Tony who was now staring intently into the kitten’s green eyes.

“We can’t give you a stripper name,” Tony said thoughtfully.

“If you name the thing Candi with an ‘i’ I’m gonna banish you both from my house,” Gibbs growled.

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Pretty Pussy’,” Tony threw him a grin. “I mean. She is a pussycat.”

“If you think I’m going to…”

Tony wheezed with laughter. “Sometimes you’re so easy, boss.”

“You’re lucky Ducky’s put a ban on headslaps until you’re better,” Gibbs muttered.

“I would never name you something ridiculous,” Tony told the kitten, relaxing and leaning back into Gibbs’ chest. “You’re way too cute for that. You got any suggestions, boss?”

Gibbs made a face. “I can name boats. Not cats.”

Tony was silent for a moment. “Josie,” he finally said. The kitten mewed in response and rubbed itself on Tony’s jaw. “You like Josie?” he asked the little fluffball, and she mewed again.

“As in ‘and the Pussycats’?”

“You know Josie and the Pussycats?” Tony asked, surprised.

Gibbs grunted.

“Maybe not Josie,” Tony started waffling. “Something else?” And the kitten yowled, jumped down into Gibbs’ lap and began kneading his thigh.

“I think maybe she likes Josie,” Gibbs pulled her off gently. “How’d you come up with Josie?”

“She was my nanny,” Tony said softly. “The year my mother died. She was good to me.”

“Josie, then,” Gibbs nodded, and the kitten mewed happily.

“Josie,” Tony smiled and sighed, relaxing into Gibbs’ chest and burying his face in it. He caught himself after a moment and tried to move away, but Gibbs tightened his hold.

“S’okay,” Gibbs said softly. “Relax.”

And to his surprise, Tony did. Finally, after long minutes, Tony put a hand tentatively on Gibbs chest and breathed as deeply as his lungs would allow, before he pulled away.

“Can’t do this,” he told Gibbs softly. “You’ll make me want things I can’t have.”

“What things?”

Tony looked down. “I’m going to hit the head,” he said without meeting Gibbs’ gaze.

Gibbs grabbed his arm before he could escape. “Tony?” he asked, his heart pounding. “What things would you want, Tony?”

Tony shook his head mutely. Gibbs released the kitten and cupped Tony’s face, making him turn to look at him.

“What things, Tony?” he asked again, his voice suddenly husky.

Tony stared at him, wheezing noisily as he breathed in and out, green eyes now locked on Gibbs’ blue ones. “Everyone knows I think of you as my mentor,” he finally said.

Gibbs nodded.

“They think that like Abby, I think of you as a father.”

Gibbs nodded again, holding his breath.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but my father really sucks.”

“I’ve noticed,” Gibbs said solemnly.

“You don’t suck.”

“Well, that’s good.

“I don’t think of you as a father,” Tony said in a small voice, and he moved his gaze away from Gibbs’ eyes, focusing somewhere in the middle of Gibbs’ chest now.

“That’s good,” Gibbs finally breathed. “Cause I don’t think of you as a son.”

Startled, Tony’s eyes returned to Gibbs’. “No?”

“No,” Gibbs answered. His eyes were now fixed on Tony’s shapely lips, and when the younger man licked his lips nervously, Gibbs’ eyes widened, and he knew that his pupils had visibly dilated at the sight.

“Nope,” Gibbs said again, licking his own lips and noting that Tony’s eyes were on his lips and tongue now. “We’ve put people in jail for thinking about their sons the way I’m thinking about you.”

Tony broke into a grin at that. “So, just to be clear…I have… feelings for you.”

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully, his thumb gently stroking Tony’s bottom lip now.

“R-romantic type feelings,” Tony continued hesitantly.

Gibbs nodded. “That’s good. We’re on the same page then.”

Tony’s grin widened. Gibbs leaned forward slowly and Tony knew the man was leaning in for a kiss. He leaned in automatically before he pushed Gibbs’ chest away. “I haven’t brushed my teeth in days,” he said, trying to scramble away.

“Don’t give a shit,” Gibbs said, pulling him close. He pressed his lips to Tony’s, soft and gentle, smiling when Tony melted into his arms, lips now soft and pliant although he refused to open his mouth despite Gibbs gently trying to lick his way in, begging for entrance with his lips, tongue and teeth.

Finally Gibbs rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’re really doing this?”

“Look, I haven’t waited nine friggin’ years for you to finally notice me to have our first kiss be one where I haven’t brushed my teeth in four fucking days.”

“Three.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You know what I’m saying,” he complained.

“Fine,” Gibbs agreed. “C’mon. I’ll help you to the head.”

Despite Tony grumbling about not needing help, he was thankful that Gibbs’ solid bulk helped him stand and kept his arm around him all the way across the hall to the bathroom. He used the facilities, found a new toothbrush waiting for him on the sink, brushed his teeth a few times before he opened the bathroom door to find Gibbs leaning against the wall right by it. By the time Gibbs helped him back in the bed, Tony’s breathing was terrible, and he was sweaty and trembling with weakness.

Gibbs ran his hand through Tony’s hair, leaned down and kissed his lips, a quick brush of their lips, slight sucking of Tony’s lower lip, Tony realizing that Gibbs now also tasted of toothpaste and mint and he gave Gibbs a playfully accusing look. But before he could pull Gibbs in for a real kiss, Gibbs held up the nebulizer mask. “Ducky said to keep putting you on the nebulizer if I think you need it,” he said softly. “You definitely need it right now.”

Tony pouted as Gibbs slid the mask on and started the machine.

“I haven’t waited all the way since Baltimore for you to look at me this way to mess it up now. I’m not going to be the one to make you pass out because I kissed you and deprived your damned lungs of oxygen,” Gibbs said sternly, although he was smiling. He ran his fingers through Tony’s hair and kissed his temple. “We’ll have a lot of time once you’re well to figure out what this is between us,” he promised.

Tony nodded, smiling shyly under the mask.

“Now breathe. And get better.”

Tony nodded. Although it had been unsaid, he heard the tacit promise of more, much more in Gibbs’ voice. And he really wanted it. He really, really did.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

There was some weirdness and awkwardness when Ziva visited, but Tony was just so tired that he literally dropped off halfway through the stilted and somewhat hostile conversation. Gibbs took her down to the kitchen and let Ziva talk through her frustrations at not being kept in the loop, placing the blame on Tony. When she finally stopped, Gibbs pinned her with a look.

“DiNozzo has been unconscious since Friday night. He woke up today,” he told her flatly. “He had nothing to do with you not being told what was going on. I made that decision.”

“But why?” Ziva was truly perplexed.

“Because you stress him out,” Gibbs told her bluntly. “He needs peace and quiet and no stress right now. Respect that if you visit him again.” He ignored her hurt look.

“But he is always the one who pesters and nitpicks…”

“He’s lighthearted and fun when he teases. He’s never deliberately cruel, Ziva,” Gibbs told her. “Do him the same favor.”

Tony was blissfully unaware of the entire conversation. The next day, Tony felt much better but Gibbs refused to let him get out of bed other than to go to the head. But Gibbs was in bed with him, holding him and – dare he say it? – cuddling with him a lot of the time. Josie came in and out of the room but seemed to enjoy sleeping on some portion of Tony, which made him happy. Ducky, Abby and McGee were already back at work but Gibbs took some extra days off to keep Tony company and enforce the order for bedrest.

It took a couple of days before Tony convinced Gibbs to let him come downstairs, if he promised to just stay on the couch and not do anything else. Gibbs built a fire in the fireplace, settled himself and Tony on the couch, Tony practically in his lap, wrapped cozily in a blanket. It took less than five minutes in this position for the younger man to fall asleep. Gibbs kissed his hair, pulled him close, and let the crackling fire soothe him.

Later that week, when Gibbs had finally gone back to work, he decided he’d had enough of cold case files and went home after lunch.

He walked into his house and saw that Tony was lying on his couch, propped up by a bunch of pillows and wrapped in a quilt that his mother had made, fast asleep. Josie was curled up on his belly. Both man and cat were sleeping, afternoon sun streaming in through the windows lighting them like a spotlight. Tony’s hair looked almost blond in the sun, and his skin was almost luminescent. Tony’s eyelashes were long, fanning his cheeks, his nose straight, his full lips slack in sleep. He was still deathly pale, and there were dark pouches below his eyes, but he was looking much better. The kitten was a bright fluffy spot, moving up and down with his belly as Tony breathed, his breaths slow and even, much better than he had been only a few days before.

Gibbs smiled at the sight. He walked over, knelt down and started kissing Tony’s jaw softly, leading up to those amazing lips of his. By the time he sucked Tony’s bottom lip into his mouth, Tony’s green eyes were open and he was smiling at Gibbs. He turned over onto his side, facing Gibbs, and Josie spilled onto the couch cushion with a protesting yowl. Tony petted and soothed the cat with his hand although he didn’t stop kissing Gibbs. The older man finally pulled away when Tony started breathing hard and panting. He stared into Tony’s eyes and smiled, one hand on his cheek, silently telling the younger man that they weren’t going to rush things, especially not while Tony wasn’t at 100%. He stood, shucked his jacket and shoes off, then slid behind the younger man on the couch, spooning him and kissing the back of his neck, his hands exploring Tony’s muscled chest.

Tony was still too weak to do much more than kissing and snuggling, but it was enough for Gibbs. Every touch was perfect. Tony was perfect. They still had a lot to figure out, but for now, this was everything that he wanted. When Tony was better, they could escalate their physical relationship. Hell, he might even cave and give Tony a blow job in the next day or so. He couldn’t wait to see Tony’s face when he came. He knew that Tony was it for him now. Tony would be it for him forever, and if what he saw in Tony’s eyes was true, then he knew Tony felt the same way about him. Words weren’t his strong point, and neither was it Tony’s when it was something serious, so he knew they might not exchange the right words for a while yet. But he could wait. Snipers were good at biding their time.

As to the rest, one day he hoped that Tony would speak to him about what Senior had done to him when he was a child, but again, he knew he had to be patient and wait. Wait for either Tony to come to him of his own volition, or for the opportunity to bring it up at the right time. Pushing his way into this discussion would only make Tony run. And that was the last thing he wanted.

Tony turned his head to smile at Gibbs. Gibbs leaned up on one elbow, looking down at those beautiful green eyes. He put a hand on the younger man’s cheek, wonder in his eyes at Tony’s loving expression. Then Josie mewed, and tried to clamber onto Tony’s hip, breaking the spell, and they both laughed. Gibbs petted the kitten as he claimed Tony’s mouth in a thorough, breath-stealing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, happy belated birthday to [cutsycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutsycat)! I hope you enjoyed your angsty kitten-filled birthday story! :D If you haven't yet, check out cutsycat's [Dictionary.com word of the day Drabble](https://archiveofourown.org/series/444514) series as well as her other mini series!
> 
> I did mostly listen to a bunch of different songs while writing this, but [Help](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yWP6Qki8mWc) by the Beatles really resonated with me. Can't say that I necessarily listened to it obsessively, but I loved the song and it felt right. Again, the title came from a portion of the lyrics (Help me if you can I'm feeling down).
> 
> As always, thank you so much for all your comments and kudos. Hope you like how the story ended!


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